


and sway to the rhythm of love

by elizaham8957



Series: one step closer [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lydia is a ballerina AU, SO MUCH FLUFF, background scallison, engaged stydia, no supernatural, proposal, there is not a drop of angst in this, this is my apology for the sequel okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “I’m going to ask Lydia to marry me.”The second the words were out of his mouth, Stiles realized that this was probably, definitely not a conversation they should be having at one in the morning. But they were both happy, a little too drunk on champagne, and they were at Scott’s wedding. It had made him think, all day. Seeing Allison walk down the aisle, hearing Scott and Allison’s vows, giving his best man speech and embarrassing both of his friends, dancing all night with their friends and family— he had realized how much he wanted every single part of this with Lydia. The elaborate party and everything that came afterwards, for the rest of their lives.





	and sway to the rhythm of love

**Author's Note:**

> Happy day 9 of the Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas! Here is the next installment of the Pas de Deux verse, and I promise it is WAY fluffier than the sequel. Like, SUBSTANTIALLY fluffier. Does this have a plot? Debatable. (You're welcome, Fer.)
> 
> This takes place the same year that the sequel ends in, and I don't want to say you have to read that for this to make sense, but you *probably* have to read that for this to make sense. There are costume and dance links down in the notes below! 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and twitter if you ever want to talk!! 
> 
> Enjoy, and happy holidays!

“I’m going to ask Lydia to marry me.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, Stiles realized that this was probably, _definitely_ not a conversation they should be having at one in the morning. But they were both happy, a little too drunk on champagne, and they were at Scott’s _wedding._ It had made him think, all day. Seeing Allison walk down the aisle, hearing Scott and Allison’s vows, giving his best man speech and embarrassing both of his friends, dancing all night with their friends and family— he had realized how much he wanted every single part of this with Lydia. The elaborate party and everything that came afterwards, for the rest of their lives.

“Really?” Scott asked, his face lighting up. They’d taken a break from dancing, sitting at the special table dedicated for the bridal party— it was abandoned, though, because Allison and Lydia were on the dance floor, the rest of the bridal party with them: Kira and Malia and Isaac and Scott’s cousin Liam all jumping to the music, scream-shouting the lyrics in time to the song. His eyes lingered on Lydia, laughing as Allison twirled her under her arm, the skirt of her maid-of-honor dress swishing, and Stiles’s breath just caught. Looking at her now, he had never been more sure of his statement to Scott. And he wanted to spend the rest of time with Lydia more than he wanted anything.

“We’ve talked about it before, a couple times,” Stiles told Scott, looking at his best friend. “And we’ve always said that there’s no rush. That it won’t really change that much.” He looked at his girlfriend again, singing along to the song playing with Allison. “But all day I’ve been thinking about how much I want this with her.” He looked back at Scott, the lights from above catching on his best friend’s shiny new wedding ring.

“So when are you going to ask her?” Scott asked, eyes still trained on Stiles, shining with excitement.

“Right now, Scott,” Stiles said, deadpan. “‘I’m gonna go ask her now and show up your entire wedding reception.”

“Hilarious,” Scott said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said truthfully. “It’s only October. I’ll figure something out before the new year.” He looked at Scott again, shrugging. “I have to get a ring, too.”

“Can I come?” Scott asked, eyes going wide again. Stiles laughed.

“Of _course_ you’re coming. We did a pretty good job picking out Allison’s ring, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did,” Scott agreed. He looked out towards the dance floor, his eyes softening when they landed on his wife. “I _married_ her today,” he told Stiles, his eyes flitting back to his best friend.

“I know,” Stiles responded. “I was there. Right next to you the whole time, actually. That’s sort of the best man’s job.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Scott said, shaking his head a little bit. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“I know,” Stiles agreed, because he felt it too. It seemed like just yesterday they had been little kids playing with action figures in Scott’s backyard. Sometimes Stiles still had trouble believing how much they’d grown up since then.

“Seems like yesterday that we were playing in the sandbox together at school, doesn’t it?” Scott said, echoing Stiles’s thought.

“Yeah, it does,” Stiles agreed. “Or running around in the woods after listening in on my dad’s radio. Or playing Star Wars in my basement, even though you _still hadn’t seen them.”_

“Hey,” Scott retorted, laughing. “I played superheroes though. I remember being Captain America for Halloween when we were seven _specifically_ because you insisted on it.”

Stiles sighed nostalgically. “God. Look at us now. You’re _married._ I might be getting _engaged.”_ He shook his head in disbelief. “Everything’s changed.”

“No, not everything,” Scott insisted, looking right at Stiles, grinning. “You’re still my best friend.”

“True,” Stiles said, smiling back at his best friend. His _brother._

“And that’s never gonna change.”

***

It was sort of insane how many rings there were to choose from.

Stiles guessed he should have been prepared for this, after going with Scott to get Allison’s, but now that he was picking out a ring for _Lydia_ — it seemed like too hard of a decision. This was something she was going to wear for the rest of her life. And he wanted it to be perfect.

“This design is very popular,” the saleswoman told Stiles, holding out another sample. Stiles grimaced at the row of large diamonds along the band, sparkling under the shop lights.

“Way too flashy,” he said, shaking his head. “Lydia would want something a lot subtler.”

“What about this one?” Scott asked, pointing to one in the display case before them. Stiles pulled a face, uncertain.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice doubtful. “It’s pretty big. I want it to be something pretty, but it has to be sort of small, so she can still wear it when she dances. Emily always complains about how big her engagement ring is at rehearsal, Lydia says.”

“What a complaint to have,” the saleswoman laughed, putting back the ring Stiles had rejected. “If you’re looking for something smaller, we have this collection over here. There are lots of more delicate options in it.”

“Perfect,” Stiles said, following the saleswoman over to the other counter, Scott right behind him. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Stiles tugged it out, seeing he had a snapchat from Lydia.

“What is it?” Scott asked as the saleswoman pulled out another display of rings.

“A snap from Lydia,” he told Scott, unlocking his phone. “Which doesn't make sense, because she should be in rehearsal right now.”

He opened up the snap, his heart immediately speeding up at the picture now filling his screen. It was Lydia in the costume shop, taking a selfie in front of one of the mirrors, wearing the Sugar Plum Fairy’s first tutu. Her smile was radiant, eyes shining with happiness, and the caption over it read: “Guess who gets to dance the Grand Pas again!”

“Look,” Stiles said, offering Scott his phone, grinning proudly. “Lydia’s in costume fitting for the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

“That’s awesome,” Scott said, looking at the picture before offering his phone back. “Does she know when she’s dancing it yet?”

“No, they don’t have casting done yet; it’s only the first week of November. They had her rehearse the Grand Pas again this year, she just wasn’t sure she’d actually get to dance it. After last season,” Stiles added, thinking of her forced year off, due to her broken ankle.

“Let me know when you do find out,” Scott said. “Allison and I want to come.”

“Of course,” Stiles said, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He turned back towards the saleswoman, examining the rings she’d laid out in front of him.

“This one is very elegant,” she said, pointing out a thin band with teeny diamonds set into it.

“I don’t know, that might be _too_ small,” Stiles said. The band was so delicate it looked like it might break.

His eyes roamed up and down the rows, and there were some pretty rings, but none of them quite felt _right._ He wondered, vaguely, if this was what Allison and Lydia had felt like going wedding dress shopping. Then he imagined _Lydia_ wedding dress shopping for _their_ wedding, and his mind went blank a little bit, picturing her walking down the aisle towards him in said dress, undoubtedly looking like an actual, literal angel.

He was _definitely_ going to cry.

“Stiles, focus,” Scott said, trying to bite back a smile, as if he could tell exactly what his best friend was thinking.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, turning back to the task at hand. His eye landed on one ring, nestled in the middle of the display, and the world sort of… _stopped,_ for a minute, his breath catching. It was simple while still elegant, not too small and not too big. A round-cut diamond was set into the golden band, but the band was made of smaller leaf shapes, two teeny diamonds set into each one. It almost reminded him of the embroidery on the second Sugar Plum Fairy tutu— the elegant, twisting leaves with pearls and rhinestones sewn inside running up the seams of the bodice mirroring the band of the ring. Maybe that was why it felt so right for Lydia. Regardless, he knew, without a single doubt in his mind, that this was the ring.

“Scott,” he said, urgently, pointing to the ring in the display. “That’s it. That’s the one.” The saleswoman plucked it from the display, offering it to Stiles, and his heart sped up, holding it in his hand. He registered that that reaction was probably stupid— it _was_ just a ring, after all— but holding it, seeing it right in front of him, everything suddenly felt way more real. He could picture it on Lydia’s hand for the rest of their lives, see himself sliding a wedding band onto her finger right next to it. It really hit him that he was going to ask Lydia to marry him. And that they were going to spend the rest of their days _together._

“Dude, are you _crying?”_ Scott asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

_“No,”_ Stiles scoffed, clearing his throat. “Definitely not. Uh, this is the one,” he told the saleswoman. “How much?”

Scott and he left a little bit later, the ring wrapped up snugly in a velvety box and his wallet _considerably_ lighter.

“I can’t believe this,” Stiles said as he and Scott got on the T, the bag with the ring box in it clutched tightly in his hand. “This is real. I’m really gonna ask her to marry me.”

“I know,” Scott said, grinning at his best friend, his smile wider than Stiles had ever seen before. “And I can’t wait for her to say yes.”

***

_“How_ many sweet potatoes do we need?”

“Six,” Lydia responded, leaning up against the cart, double checking the shopping list in her hand.

Stiles pulled a face. “Are you _sure?”_ he asked, hand hovering over the sweet potatoes. “That seems like so many.”

“You’re the one that made the list,” Lydia responded. “And we have a lot of people coming for Thanksgiving this year, so we doubled the recipes, remember?”

He shrugged, bagging up the potatoes. “Yeah, let’s just go with it.”

Lydia laughed as he deposited the bag on the scale, printing off the sticker and scanning it. “Any other produce?” he asked, placing the bag in the cart.

Lydia surveyed the list. “Nope. Broccoli and spinach are both of the frozen variety.”

“Alright,” Stiles said, grinning. “On to the meats.”

They wandered the supermarket leisurely, checking things off the Thanksgiving shopping list as they went, the cart soon becoming piled high with food.

“I can’t believe Thanksgiving is this week,” Stiles said as they selected pie crusts, shaking his head in disbelief. The month seemed to have flown by— he couldn’t believe it was almost _December._

Not that he was necessarily complaining about the passage of time. He’d had Lydia’s engagement ring tucked away for most of the past month, and he had some ideas on how he was going to ask her, but it depended on other things he didn’t know yet. So first, he had to wait.

“I can,” Lydia said, making a face. “I haven’t been able to get the Nutcracker music out of my head for the past month.”

“That’s how you know, I guess,” he said, smiling. Their living room _had_ been covered in an inordinate amount of pointe shoes lately as she prepared for the upcoming 44-show run.

“We got casting today,” she said, offhand, and Stiles froze, his hands flailing a little bit on their way to grab the bag of frozen broccoli.

“You did?” he asked. “Why didn’t you say? What did you get?”

She shrugged, thinking. “A couple demi snows with Adelaide, a couple lead flowers with Lauren. Three or four Dew Drops, I think— about one a week. A few ballerina dolls too, and some pastorales. I’ve got two Arabians,” she said, grinning at him casually.

_“And?”_ Stiles said, his eyes still wide in anticipation. “Lydia, you’re torturing me. The Sugar Plum Fairy?”

“I have _four,”_ she said, smile radiant. “Two Sunday afternoons, and one Thursday night. And,” she added, eyes shining. “One _Saturday night show._ They usually only let _principals_ dance those shows, sometimes soloists.”

Stiles sighed in relief. Just because she knew the dance didn’t necessarily mean she would get to _dance_ it. And he knew she had been worried she might just be kept as an alternate this season, because of her injury. And a Saturday show? That was incredible. His heart swelled, filling with pride for his girlfriend.

“Oh, that’s _awesome,_ Lydia,” he said, his grin mirroring hers. “That’s seriously fantastic. A Saturday show? Really?”

“I know,” she said, nodding in disbelief. “I thought it was a mistake at first. But I think I know why they’re doing it,” she said, a little of the light leaving her eyes. “They’re testing me. After last season— I have to work even harder for this promotion. If I want to be a soloist.”

Stiles stayed quiet, halfway through scanning the spinach. “But I don’t care,” she said decisively, shaking her head. “I’m good at tests. I’m going to work my ass off, and I’m going to prove I can do it. And it’s a Saturday night show, and _I_ get to dance it.”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding. “That’s amazing, Lydia. I’m so frickin’ proud of you.”

She smiled, glancing down before meeting his eyes again, pressing her lips together in that way that she did only when she was looking at him. “But,” she said, and her face fell again, her eyes looking a little panicked suddenly. Stiles tensed, because he _knew_ that look. He hadn’t seen it since April, but it was still hauntingly familiar to him.

“What?” he said, taking her hand. “What else?”

She hesitated, worrying her lip as she looked at him. “They want me to dance the Snow Queen,” she said, voice almost a whisper. “Three times.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, immediately understanding that look in her eye.

“I know I should be thankful,” she said, hurried, “because it’s a great part. The Snow Pas is beautiful. But I can’t help— I still can’t do it without being scared.” She shook her head, looking down. “Which is _dumb._ The turning pass I fell on was standard. It’s practically _in_ the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. But something about doing it to that music—” She met his eyes again. “I keep landing my turns early. Patrick can tell, too. He’s been great, in rehearsals, because he knows _why,_ obviously, but that doesn’t change that I’m messing it up. And I don’t know how to _not_ be scared.”

“Lydia,” Stiles said, taking her other hand, groceries forgotten. “It’s _fine_ to be scared. What happened was really traumatizing. But that doesn’t mean you can’t overcome it, okay? You’ve just gotta take it slow. You’ll get there.” She nodded, squeezing his hand, eyes still locked on his. “Did you talk to your therapist about it?”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah. She’s been helping me with it too.” Stiles nodded at her confirmation. She’d been seeing a therapist ever since she’d spiraled in February and they’d had their talk on the beach in California, and she didn’t necessarily go into the specifics of what they discussed during her sessions with Stiles, but Lydia assured him that it was helping a lot.

“Good,” Stiles said, nodding slowly. “Well, put in for tickets for one of you Snow Queen shows, and definitely for the Saturday night you’re dancing the grand pas. I’m not missing that for the world.”

“I already did,” she said, grinning at him. “Allison and Scott want to come too, and I know Kira had said she and Malia would come to one of them, so I figured this one was a good one.”

“You told Allison before you told _me?”_ Stiles asked, shooting her a fake-wounded expression.

Lydia just rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the affectionate shine to them. “I called her on my break to tell her. I wanted to tell _you_ in person.”

He just grinned cheekily at her, following behind her as she pushed the cart into the next aisle.

“A Saturday night grand pas,” he mused, still so unbelievably happy for her. “You’re in the big leagues now, Lyds.”

She huffed in laughter. “Tell that to my job title, which still reads ‘second soloist.’”

He smiled lazily at her, though, because he knew that this would be the first Saturday night show of many. And that’s when it hit him— he knew _exactly_ how he was going to ask her to marry him.

“Someday,” he told her, voice confident. She grinned up at him, eyes full of adoration.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and her voice sounded sure too. “Someday.”

***

Coming home to Lydia dancing was not something new to Stiles.

Every day for the past few weeks, he was greeted with Nutcracker music when he opened the door, Lydia sneaking in a quick practice session in between morning rehearsals and her night shows. Today, though, she had the night off— she usually wasn’t in one show a week, which was another perk of moving up in the company. Principal dancers got more time off, but Stiles would take the one extra night a week he got to spend with Lydia during Nutcracker season.

He could hear the coda from the Grand Pas before he even opened the door, so he was unsurprised to find her dancing in the living room, table pushed up against the wall and rug moved practically into the entranceway. Finn looked up briefly from his spot on the couch, tail thumping against the cushions, but Lydia didn’t even turn, never breaking a single step as she called out, “Hi, babe,” in greeting.

“Hi,” he responded, dropping his keys on the counter, shrugging off his coat and tossing his badge next to the pile. “Still practicing for Saturday?”

“Yeah,” she said, striking a final pose as the music stopped. She leaned down to pause the music as Stiles walked towards her, and he kissed her briefly in greeting. “It’s stupid,” she said, shaking her head. “I _know_ the dance. I did it onstage on Sunday. But I still feel nervous,” she confessed, wiping sweat from her brow, tugging her _Wings of Wax_ t-shirt back down where it had ridden up.

“It’s just, it’s a Saturday night show,” she continued. “And I want to make sure I do my best.”

“You will,” Stiles said automatically. “You know this dance like the back of your hand. You could do it in your sleep. Literally,” he said, making a face. “I think I could hear you humming it last night while you were asleep.”

Lydia laughed, shaking her head at him. “You’re gonna be great, Lydia, seriously,” he assured her. “I’ve seen you do this dance so many times _I_ can probably do it now.”

“Really?” Lydia said, eyebrows raised, challenging. “You think so?”

“Oh, it’s _on,”_ Stiles said, grinning at her. “Start the music, let’s go.” She laughed as she leaned down to restart the intrada, and the familiar music flooded the apartment.

Stiles did, for the record, sort of know the dance— god knows he’d seen it enough times by now. He walked towards Lydia, holding his arms in an exaggerated way, imitating her posture.

“Do I look graceful?” Stiles asked, and Lydia ducked her head, unable to contain her laughter.

“You look about as graceful as a newborn giraffe,” she said, giving him a look, a smile still tugging at her lips. Stiles pulled a face, pretending he was offended, before taking the hand she was offering him, supporting her as she rose into arabesque. “Are you going to turn me?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes, that little smile still playing at her lips.

“Excuse me, I know what I’m doing here,” he said, giving her a look. He wrapped his arms around her torso, lifting her right off the ground and spinning her around.

“Stiles!” she cried, body shaking with laughter as he spun her around, her ballet posture completely lost. “That is _definitely_ not how the dance goes.”

“I’m gonna have to have a talk with Mikko Nissinen, then, because my choreography is _clearly_ superior,” he countered, putting her back on the ground. “What’s next?” He took her hands, twirling her under his arms like they would dance at a wedding, or something. Lydia, however, rose onto pointe, soutenu turning under his arm, dropping his hand as she added in a chassé, rising into attitude.

“Come on, promenade is next,” Lydia instructed, grabbing at him, still smiling. Stiles offered her his hand, leading her around in a circle as she pivoted on one foot, still on pointe.

“This is _exactly_ how the dance goes,” Stiles said, still laughing a little bit. He moved his hands to her waist as she lowered her leg from attitude, standing in sous-sus in front of him. She drew one leg up in passé, her arms in high fifth as she arched backwards, letting him completely support her with his hands. This wasn’t how the dance went anymore, but Lydia seemed to enjoy just improving with him. She smiled as she stood up straight again, breaking away from his arms and détourné turning to face away from him again. Stiles watched in awe as she effortlessly turned again, landing a triple pirouette like it was nothing, her smile wide as she faced him again.

“You seem to just be standing there,” Lydia said, doing a quick balancé, soutenu turn combination he recognized from the Waltz of the Flowers. “I thought you said you knew this dance.”

“I _do_ know this dance,” Stiles returned, taking her hand and letting her balance as she raised her leg into arabesque again, supporting her as she leaned over into penché, her legs making a 180 degree angle, completely vertical. “It’s not my fault you’re improvising.”

“What comes next, then?” she asked, lowering her leg and just standing on relevé, meeting his eye with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“What’s that move you do at the beginning of the Snow Pas?” he asked, grinning. “That definitely comes next.”

“What, the _lift?”_ Lydia asked. “First off, no it doesn’t, and second, no _way_ you can do that.”

“I can so!” Stiles argued. “C’mere, I _got_ this.”

Lydia laughed as he wrapped his arms around her torso again, pulling her back into his chest. “And how do you intend on actually lifting me?” she asked, grinning.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered, reassessing his arm placement. “Hold on, give me your leg.” He leaned down, keeping one arm wrapped securely around her waist, but wrapping his other hand around the leg she’d just raised into arabesque for him.

“There you go,” Lydia said, eyebrows still raised, her eyes twinkling.

“Are you this mean to Patrick when you’re dancing?” Stiles asked, his hand splayed across her thigh.

“No,” she said, laughing. “He actually knows what he’s doing.”

“This is discrimination, right here,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Just because I’m not as good of a dancer—”

“You’re _not_ a dancer.”

“— means you won’t treat me with the respect I deserve? I worked _hard_ to get here, Lydia. I have seen _The Nutcracker_ more times that I _ever_ would have imagined, back when I was young and innocent.”

“I’m assuming before you met me, the number of ballets you were expecting to sit through in your lifetime was probably zero,” Lydia said, still grinning. “Are you going to lift me?”

“You ready to be proven wrong?” Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows. She just laughed.

He tightened his grip around her, lifting her off her feet and into the air. Lydia tucked her bottom leg into passé, her arms stretching out, fingers long and elegant. Stiles turned her slowly, and he could feel her muscles tense under his palm, every ounce of her body still in control. They might have been messing around right now, but she was still in dance mode, working to make sure every single move she made looked graceful and effortless.

He lowered her back down, gently, and Lydia stood on both feet again, turning in his arms to look at him. “That was actually not that bad,” she told him, eyes trained on his, hands snaking up to rest on his shoulders.

“I told you,” Stiles said, grinning, hand still solid on the small of her back. “I have seen _The Nutcracker_ a lot.”

“I know,” Lydia said. “You got last year off, but other than that— you’ve seen it, what, two times a season?”

“Three, the first year I met you,” Stiles said. “I went twice on my _own._ God, I was so hopelessly in love with you.”

Lydia laughed at that, before continuing. “So you’ve seen it around… nine times?” she asked. “That’s about nine more than you were expecting, I bet.”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. I always thought if I had a daughter someday, I’d probably have to go see it at some point, if she danced.”

Lydia froze a little at his words, her hands stiffening on his shoulders. He immediately regretted his words— while he would, theoretically, love to have kids with Lydia someday, he knew what that meant for her career, and for her body.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, looking at her sympathetically. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” Lydia said, nodding. She glanced away, pressing her lips together. “I know we’ve never really talked about it before. Kids.” She hesitated, before pressing on. “My mom asked me, when we were at her house in February. If you wanted kids. And I realized,” she said, glancing up at him again, “that I didn’t know the answer.”

“Are you asking?” Stiles said, voice soft. Lydia nodded, worrying her lip again. He moved his other hand, cradling her head with it, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

“I mean, I always liked the idea of having kids,” Stiles said, thinking. “I always thought I’d like having one or two. And… I mean, we’ve been together more than three years now. I’ve thought about it before,” he confessed. Because he had. God, even now, just picturing a little person with Lydia’s hair and his eyes, as smart as their mom and as sarcastic as their dad— it made his heart speed up a little bit, because, circumstances permitting, yeah. He really wanted that.

But this was Lydia, and her body, and her career, and she was more important to him than any fleeting fantasy he might have.

“But I know what that would mean for you, and for dance,” Stiles said. “So if you wanted them, then yeah, I would too. But if that’s something you can’t do, because of your job— that’s fine, Lydia.” Her expression softened at his words, and he smiled at her, small and private. “You’re what’s most important to me. And however you feel about kids… it’s not gonna change how I feel about _you._ I’m in this for the long haul, okay? Regardless.”

He had the ring hidden in his closet to prove it.

“I love you,” she murmured, rolling up on pointe to press her lips against his. He kissed her back, warm and slow.

“I love you too,” he replied as they pulled away, noses brushing.

“I think I’d like them someday,” Lydia said, voice quiet, pensive. “Not any time soon. I always thought before I’d be able to just take a season off, no problem, if we wanted kids.” His heart sped up a little bit at the _we,_ because knowing Lydia had thought about having children, not just in general, but with _him_ — it made his heart feel full. “But now, after last year…” she trailed off, looking up at him again. Stiles leaned down, kissing her lips again briefly.

“Hey, no worries,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “There’s no rush. You don’t have to decide right now, okay?” She looked up at him through her lashes, her nose nudging against him, and her smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in the world, small and shy and just… completely _Lydia._

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he told her, and he’d never been more sure of something before in his life.

The music changed, the crescendo signalling the end of the song. _“Shit,_ Lydia!” Stiles said, eyes going wide in mock panic. “We’re gonna miss the big ending lift!”

Lydia laughed, tipping her head back. “I know for a _fact_ you can’t do that lift,” she said, smirking at him.

Stiles thought about the particular lift— she was right, he definitely couldn’t do it. He probably couldn’t even lift her in the _air_ like that, let alone throw her up and _catch_ her afterwards.

“I can probably do the other one, from the beginning of Act II,” he said. “The one where you sit on my shoulder?”

“Okay,” Lydia said, eyes sparkling. “Let’s go. Come on.”

She turned in his arms, her back to his chest as she placed both his hands on her waist. “I jump to start,” she said. “You ready?”

“I was _born_ ready,” Stiles assured her, holding her waist firmly, feeling her muscles tense as she pliéd, preparing to jump. She sprung into the air, and Stiles lifted her, only flailing a little as he deposited her on his shoulder, one hand steadying her waist, the other looping over her thighs. “Am I holding you right?” Stiles said, making sure she was steady on his shoulder. “I feel like I am. I definitely _nailed_ that.”

“Subpar,” Lydia said, both her feet pointed, legs poised perfectly, despite the fact that Stiles had little to no idea what he was doing. “Now try this with my tutu literally covering your entire face.”

“You are a harsh critic,” Stiles said, playing offended again, as he lowered her back to the ground. She rolled her eyes affectionately at him, hands lingering on his chest.

“So when am I getting my job offer?” Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Lydia laughed, raising up onto pointe again to kiss him sweetly.

“I think you better stick with being a detective,” she confessed, smiling against his lips. Stiles laughed, chasing after her mouth, pulling her in closer to him, hands spanning her back.

Stiles thought of that ring, tucked away in his closet, and the thought of spending every day like this with Lydia made his heart feel fuller than ever before.

***

“Since the first time I met you, I’ve wanted to keep _being_ with you. I was just _drawn_ to you. And I think I knew, even back then, that this was it. That you were different, and you were going to change me. And— Scott, are you even listening?”

“Yes,” Scott defended, giving up on fixing his tie and regarding Stiles. “I am completely listening.”

“Then what did I just say?” Stiles demanded, fixing his best friend with a glare.

“Stiles, calm down.” Scott said, sighing. “Your speech sounds fine.”

“I don’t want it to be _fine,_ I want it to be _perfect,”_ Stiles rebutted, turning back to his closet, where he still had to pick out a shirt.

“You’ve practiced the speech for me a million times,” Scott said, finishing off his tie. “And believe me, as someone who’s been there— as soon as you start talking you’re going to completely forget what you were going to say.”

“I better not,” Stiles replied, finally deciding to just stay classic and go with a white shirt. “I worked on it for like a _week.”_

“You know she’s going to say yes, regardless,” Scott reasoned.

“Still,” Stiles said. “That doesn't mean I don’t want it to go perfectly.” He glanced over at the dresser Scott was standing in front of, the velvety ring box set in the middle, Lydia’s engagement ring tucked safely inside.

“Hey,” Allison said, heels clicking as she entered the bedroom. “Are you two almost ready? We have an early dinner reservation.”

“Yeah, remind me again why we’re getting dinner at five thirty when the show doesn’t start until seven thirty?” Scott asked.

“Because we need to pick up the flowers after dinner but before the show, so they don’t wilt, and we are _not_ going to be late,” Stiles rebutted. Allison smiled, trying not to laugh. _Laugh away,_ Stiles thought. He would much rather be wildly early than at all late tonight. Even if Lydia wasn’t even _in_ the first act.

“Kira and Malia are meeting us at the restaurant,” Allison said, glancing back down at her phone again.

“Cool,” Stiles said, tugging on his white button down, tucking it in. “I’ll be ready in a minute. Unfortunately, Scott won’t let me practice my speech on him one more time.”

Scott noticeably sighed, turning towards his wife and shooting her a look, like he was desperate for help. Allison just laughed, looking right at Stiles.

“You ready for this?” Allison asked, her smile encouraging.

“Is it acceptable to answer both yes _and_ no?” Stiles checked, his heart already pounding.

“No chickening out,” Allison said, raising her eyebrows. “I want to go wedding dress shopping with my best friend.”

“I’m not chickening out,” Stiles said, shooting Allison a look at the mere _suggestion._

“I know,” she said, smiling, softer this time. “But don’t be nervous. She’s going to say yes.”

“Scott already said the same thing,” Stiles said, but it didn’t stop him from feeling jittery.

Stiles turned back to the closet, grabbing a tie, but he paused, because he could have sworn he heard the apartment door open.

“I thought you said Kira and Malia were meeting us at the restaurant?” Stiles asked, turning towards Allison.

Allison’s brow furrowed. “I thought they were. Hold on.” She turned, walking out of Stiles’s room, heels clicking down the hallway.

_“Lydia?”_ Allison’s voice sounded a second later, and Stiles froze, because his girlfriend-slash-hopefully-soon-to-be-fiancée was _not_ supposed to be here.

“Scott!” he hissed, gesturing wildly, heart pounding at the sound of Lydia’s approaching footsteps. “The ring!”

“What?” Scott returned, looking genuinely confused.

“The _ring box_ right in front of you that Lydia _definitely cannot see!”_ he elaborated, arms still flailing. Scott’s eyes went wide as he got the memo, seizing the ring box and shoving it in his pocket a mere second before Lydia walked into the room.

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked, stepping into the room, her expression suspicious. She had her show makeup all done, hair wound up in a french twist, but she was still wearing her leggings and a sweater, thick socks pulled up past the top of her Bean Boots.

“Uh, nothing,” Stiles said, shaking his head vehemently. “What are you doing here? You have a show in two and a half hours. Aren’t you supposed to be at the Opera House getting ready?”

“Not for half an hour,” she said. “My hair and makeup were already done from the afternoon show. And I wanted to see you, quick,” she finished, biting her lip.

“Oh,” Stiles said, voice soft. “Uh, Scott, can you give us a minute?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “I’ve gotta go grab my coat anyways. Good luck tonight, Lydia,” he offered, kissing her on the cheek quickly on his way out of the room. Lydia smiled sweetly at him, closing the door as soon as he was in the hallway.

“What’s up?” Stiles said, moving towards Lydia, dropping his tie on the bed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, although her expression suggested she wasn’t necessarily convinced. “I’m just nervous, I think.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Stiles said, running his hands up and down her arms. “I’ve seen you do this dance a million times. You’re gonna be _great._ And your bosses will think so too.”

“I feel like I’m walking into an audition, or something,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “I never get this nervous before shows. Shows are the one place I can _relax.”_

“So relax,” Stiles said. Lydia pulled a face at him that _clearly_ conveyed she was thinking easier said than done.

“I know, okay,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “But I mean it. Forget it’s a trial. Forget it’s a Saturday. Pretend you’re in the living room, or something. Pretend it’s the first time you danced it onstage. Were you nervous then, three years ago?”

“No,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “Not at all. And I know I shouldn’t be nervous now. Patrick and I know the dance. We’ve practiced it a million times before.” She shrugged, meeting his eyes. “Something about tonight just feels _different.”_

_I really hope it’s not because you can tell Scott has your engagement ring in his pocket and I’m going to ask you to marry me later,_ Stiles thought.

“Well, it _is_ your first Saturday show,” Stiles said, shrugging. “You’ll get used to it. Before you know it, they’ll have you dancing opening _night.”_

Lydia laughed. “In order for that to happen, Misa would need to retire, and I’m pretty sure that woman’s going to keep dancing until the end of time.”

“Well, one day,” Stiles told her, twining his fingers with hers, squeezing her hands. “But you better prepare yourself. They’re gonna want you to dance every Saturday show after you absolutely _crush_ this one.”

“I hope so,” Lydia said, voice soft, smile optimistic.

“I know so,” Stiles whispered, leaning down to kiss her. “Wait,” he said, hovering above her lips. “Is this the fancy lipstick that won’t get messed up if I kiss you? Because you look gorgeous, and I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

“Stiles, just kiss me,” Lydia said, laughing, as she stood on tiptoe, meeting him halfway. He kissed her sweetly, slowly, trying to show her how proud he was of her without using words.

“I can’t wait to see you dance,” Stiles murmured, nose nudging hers. “When you hear someone screaming your name at the end of the intrada, just know that’s me.”

Lydia laughed, her breath fanning out over his cheek. “Of course.” Stiles pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight, her hands snaking over his shoulders as she leaned into him.

“I should go back,” Lydia whispered. “I just… I needed to see you, before.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, pulling away slightly, arms still looped around her waist. “I’m always here.”

“I know,” Lydia said, smile soft and full of adoration.

“Merde,” Stiles told her, wishing her good luck. He still wasn’t exactly sure why ballet dancers told each other “shit” in French instead of “break a leg,” but Lydia smiled at him, kissing him again quickly.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes shining. “I’ll see you after the show.”

“Yes you will,” Stiles assured her, trying to keep his heartbeat under control as he thought of just what he was planning to do after the show.

Lydia smiled again, turning and leaving the room, and Stiles could hear the apartment door shut behind her. Scott reappeared in the room a minute later, just as Stiles was finishing his tie.

“This is yours,” Scott said, handing the ring box back over. Stiles took it gratefully, flipping the lid open just to look at the ring again. The diamonds sparkled in the light from the room, the gold of the band bright against the dark velvet cushioning.

“You ready to go?” Allison asked, poking her head in the room. Stiles looked up, closing the box and sliding it into his pocket. With one last look at his friends, he nodded decisively, grabbing his coat.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

The ring box was burning a hole in Stiles’s pocket.

Not literally, obviously. He had almost forgotten about it, for a minute— when the usher had led them to their seats, only a few rows back in center orchestra, he had immediately stowed the elaborate bouquet he’d picked for her under his seat, pulling out the green leaflet inside his Playbill and finding Lydia’s name. His heart swelled with pride, seeing it printed right on the front page, in all caps next to “Sugar Plum Fairy.”

He’d skimmed through the rest of the casting as well— a principle was dancing the Snow Queen, but Adelaide was dancing Dew Drop, with Lauren and Hannah as her lead flowers. Caroline had the ballerina doll, and Emily was in the Waltz of the Snowflakes before the two of them danced the Pastorale together in Act II, so he could watch some of Lydia’s close friends dance before she got on stage. As soon as he had finished reading over the casting list, though, he remembered the ring box in his pocket, the corner pressing firmly into his thigh.

“Relax, Stiles,” Scott said, nudging his best friend with his elbow. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Stiles replied, his leg bouncing and his heart accelerating. “You already did this.”

The lights dimmed as the show began, and Stiles tried to focus on the dancing, tried to take his mind off of what he was going to do afterwards, but it was hard without Lydia onstage to focus on. He loved seeing _her_ dance, sure, but… seeing everyone else dance was a different story.

At least _The Nutcracker_ was relatively short with an interesting plot. _Sleeping Beauty_ was about three hours long, and if he had to sit through that one again any time soon, he was going to finally give in to the desire to fall asleep from the Rose Adagio to whenever Lydia stepped onstage.

The first act sped by, and before he knew it, the orchestra was playing again, the curtain going up as the second act started. The backdrops on stage changed, and then there was Lydia, perched on the dais, looking regal and elegant as she stood and walked down the staircase, beginning to dance across the stage, her movements perfect and her smile wide.

Something about seeing Lydia dance just… _settled_ Stiles. His heart stopped racing, his leg stopped shaking, the ring box in his pocket wasn’t so heavy anymore— all his nerves disappeared. As he watched her float across the stage, his mind sort of cleared, and he wasn’t scared at all. She looked so natural, so relaxed, every movement communicating ease and grace. It was sort of amazing, seeing her move like she did on stage. He knew firsthand how hard it was to dance— hours of sweating while she worked through her choreography in their living room, hours afterwards of stretching and kneading at her muscles, bare toes bleeding and wrapped in athletic tape— maybe that’s why it was so much more impressive to see her on stage, sparkling literally and figuratively as she danced across the stage with a natural, easy grace. He knew how hard it was to do ballet, but he knew it was even harder to make it look as easy as Lydia did.

As promised, Stiles did scream Lydia’s name at the end of Pas de Deux: Intrada, Allison, Scott, Kira, and Malia joining in as well. The five of them stood and whooped at the final curtain call as Patrick presented Lydia to the entire audience and she curtsied gracefully, looking right at Stiles, her smile radiant.

They didn’t usually get to go backstage after performances, but Stiles had talked to people and gotten it cleared beforehand, so the five of them followed a stagehand back through the maze of hallways in the Opera House, Stiles in the lead. Lydia was still on stage when they finally reached their destination, in her tutu and talking to Adelaide, Lauren, and her other friends. Lauren nudged Lydia, nodding over to Stiles, and Lydia turned, her expression confused at the appearance of her boyfriend and everyone else.

“Stiles!” she called, walking over and meeting them halfway, still wearing her pointe shoes. “How did you guys get back here?”

“We’ve got an in,” Allison replied, smirking. Stiles just grinned, hugging her tightly before handing over the bouquet he’d gotten her.

“You were incredible,” he assured her. “Seriously, so fantastic. You were like _glowing._ That might have just been the stage lights, honestly, because we were sitting really close, but still. Amazing. Just like always.”

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek briefly, squeezing his hand. Allison hugged her next, also congratulating her best friend. Slowly, Lydia’s dance friends began to trickle over to say hi to everyone as well, Stiles’s heart beating a little faster with every passing second.  

Lydia beamed at Allison, and her smile was brighter than the sun, Stiles swore— she looked so utterly _happy,_ standing here in her tutu. She glanced back at him, eyes light and sparkling, and the ring box was heavy in his pocket. Not from nerves or doubts or dread or anything like that; no, the corners pressed into his thigh to remind him this was real, and this was happening. In a second he was going to get down on one knee and ask Lydia to marry him, and his body was buzzing in anticipation, the ring box biting into his skin like it was desperate to escape and show the incredible girl in front of him the piece of jewelry inside he had picked especially for her, to wear for the rest of their lives.

He thrust his hand into his pocket, pads of his fingers brushing the velvety covering of the box. Lydia was smiling at Allison again, lost in conversation, and the way her eyes shone, that soft, comfortable glow to her face— Stiles just _knew._ This was it.

“Lydia?” he said, tugging the box from his pocket, his fingers curling around it, and as she turned to face him, he sunk down on one knee.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her green eyes going wide in shock. He just grinned, already overcome with how much he loved her. God, he’d _never_ thought it would be possible to love someone as much as he did her. But every single day she proved him wrong, over and over again, because every moment in their lives, exciting or mundane or painful or vastly inconsequential— every single moment, he learned to love her more.

“Lydia,” he repeated, voice soft, and he almost didn’t want to keep talking. He just wanted to stare at her forever, until that wonderstruck, adoring look on her face was etched into his brain for the rest of time.

“Four years ago, Scott dragged me to some bar downtown to meet this girl he hadn’t been able to shut up about, and I was pissed, because I had a ton of homework to do and the Mets were playing.” Allison and Scott laughed, but Stiles’s eyes were still locked on Lydia’s, focusing on that soft shine in her eye, the little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But then you walked into the room, and I think I literally froze. And then you opened your mouth, and I _definitely_ froze, because I had never met someone as amazing as you. And then the more I got to know you, the more you just blew me away. All I wanted to do was keep talking to you, learn more about you, keep making you smile. Ever since that first time I met you, I’ve just wanted to keep _being_ with you. Being around you. I was just _drawn_ to you. And I think I knew, even back then, that this was it. You were different, and you were going to change my life. And you have,” he told her, clearing his throat, because he was getting progressively worse at fighting off the emotion threatening to overtake him. Lydia looked like she felt the same, though, her eyes a little misty, her smile the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You have changed my life in the best way possible,” Stiles continued, his eyes never breaking away from hers, and he could feel the intensity of his gaze. “And you’re the most amazing person I know. You’ve shown me what it’s like to have such deep, pure passion for things. You’ve taught me how to look at things differently and figure it out. And because of you, I’ve learned how to love someone so much that they become a part of who you are. I never want to stop learning, Lydia,” he told her, glancing down to flick open the ring box in his hand, ignoring the slight tremble of his fingers. His heart was beating erratically, and the diamond ring glittered from the stage lights, snug in the velvety cushion of the box. He met her eyes again, holding the box towards her, forearm resting on his knee, and now he couldn’t help it— he could feel tears in his eyes. Lydia was the same, though, her eyes shining, her smile devastatingly beautiful as a pearly tear traced its way down her cheek.

“Every single day with you, I learn more. About you. About myself. About how much someone can care for one person. The only thing I don’t want to learn is how to keep going without you, because I can’t imagine my life anymore without you in it. You’ve made me who I am now, and you’ve become a part of me. And I want to keep learning from you, for the rest of my life.” She raised one hand to her mouth at that, her eyes impossibly soft as she regarded him. “I love you so much, Lydia,” he said, and he could feel his bottom lip quiver, his heartbeat so fast, his breath a little short. “Will you marry me?”

_“Yes,”_ Lydia sighed, automatic, immediate, before shoving the bouquet she still held into Allison’s arms unceremoniously. Stiles grinned, moving to stand up, but before he could, Lydia had practically tackled him in a hug, her head buried in his neck, arms tight around him. Their friends and the company all broke into applause, and the tulle of Lydia’s tutu dug into his legs, but he really barely noticed all that, because Lydia was his fiancée and they were getting _married._ He got to spend the rest of his life with this insanely incredible woman, and he couldn’t even _describe_ how lucky he felt.

“Do you want your ring?” Stiles murmured into her ear a moment later, arms still tightly wrapped around her, because Lydia was making no indication of moving anytime soon. She nodded, pulling away from him slightly, and the smile on her face as she offered him her left hand made his heart swell.

Stiles’s breath caught as he tugged the ring free from the box and slipped it onto her finger, and it looked so natural there, the diamond sparkling almost as much as her tutu. The company broke into applause again as they finally stood up, and Allison and Kira sighed contently, but Stiles was a little distracted, because Lydia was tugging on the back of his neck, forcing his head down to her level so she could kiss him.

He blocked the whole “Lydia’s entire company is here and watching us” thought from his mind, grinning instead against her lips. She laughed into his mouth, her tongue warm as it slipped against his, and they _never_ kissed each other like this around other people, but strangely, Stiles felt like they were alone up there on the stage. All that mattered to him was Lydia, and he was surrounded by her, wrapped up by her, intoxicated by her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and tugging her into his body. Their kiss was a little sloppy, both of them overly happy and all too eager, but it was also the most _perfect_ thing in the world. Stiles was lost completely to the feel of her mouth against his, her warm laughter against his lips, and when she finally pulled away to murmur “ _I love you”_ against his mouth, his heart thumped erratically, overcome with sheer, all-encompassing love for the girl in his arms.

They finally pulled away, grinning at each other still, Lydia’s eyes still a little shiny, arms still wrapped around each other. “Okay,” Allison said, smile wide and voice impatient. “Let us see the ring!”

Lydia laughed, twining her right hand with Stiles’s, offering Allison her left. Kira and Allison fawned over it, Malia examining it quickly and shooting Lydia a congratulatory grin, before Adelaide and Lauren and Caroline were crowding around as well, Emily and Hannah behind them.

“It’s gorgeous, Lydia,” Caroline said, sighing contently.

“It matches your tutu,” Lauren pointed out, taking Lydia’s hand and holding it next to the embroidery on the bodice. “With the leaves, and the stones inside.”

“That’s why I liked it,” Stiles said, Lydia looking back at him, her expression impossibly soft. “It just felt like it was meant for you.”

All of Lydia’s friends cooed at his words, but Stiles was really only half paying attention to them, right hand still linked with Lydia’s. His heart was still pounding, and he had to fight to keep the ridiculous, lovestruck grin off his face— he was pretty sure he was losing that battle anyways, based on the way Scott was looking at him.

Lydia’s friends finally let go of her hand, and she immediately turned back to Stiles, tucking her body into his, her tutu squishing up against his side. He didn’t mind in the slightest; he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, fingers running over the rhinestones sewn into her costume.

“I have to say,” Stiles whispered, leaning down so that just Lydia could hear, both of them tuning out the chatter of their friends. “I am _really_ proud I didn’t forget my speech. I thought I was gonna have to ad-lib for a while, because Scott stopped letting me practice on him.”

Lydia laughed, snuggling her head into his shoulder. “That is impressive,” she agreed, smiling. “And I’m glad you didn’t forget it. I loved your speech.”

“I love _you,”_ he responded, kissing the top of her head, being careful to avoid her sparkly Sugar Plum crown. “Have I mentioned that tonight?”

“Once or twice, maybe,” Lydia said, eyes shining, that small smile tugging at her lips, affectionate and private, just for him.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Stiles said, wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “Because now I get to tell you for the rest of our _lives.”_

“Good,” Lydia replied, smiling as she looped her arms around him. “Because then I get to tell you too.”

“Forever and ever,” Stiles said, grinning stupidly at her. She smiled back, rolling up onto pointe to kiss him briefly again.

“Forever and ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, how obvious is it that I'm totally setting up for a fic where they have kids in this verse?
> 
> Some links for y'all: 
> 
> Most importantly: [here](https://www.loveandpromisejewelers.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/h/e/helena_morganite_diamond_rose_gold_engagement_ring_4_.jpg) is Lydia's engagement ring
> 
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bksgAkiXQtM&feature=youtu.be) is the entire Grand Pas de Deux from Boston Ballet's Nutcracker
> 
> And [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eziAR9Xx1vc) [are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqFeaAeq_y4) two of the promo videos for the show this season, just for a look at some of the costumes and sets and such
> 
> Here are Lydia's two Sugar Plum tutus: [this one](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kE9s2QkthHA/UJ1p34s_UWI/AAAAAAAADY8/9gJnpoLKJmA/s1600/Boston+Ballet+Nutcracker+Suite+33+small.jpg) is her first tutu for the beginning of Act II, and [this one](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/49/c1/04/49c104dc9d44aed3868c90add08de527--nutcracker-ballet-costumes-dance-costumes-ballet.jpg) is what she wears for the Grand Pas at the Act II
> 
> Here are the for all the other roles she danced this season: [the Snow Queen](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/c9/53/cc/c953cc331e7e70fd7ce5d1b0314b79fc--nutcracker-costumes-dance-costumes.jpg), [Dew Drop](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/c4/fe/e0/c4fee0dae4ae2ccd5150f8231b9d024d.jpg), [Pastorale](https://www.instagram.com/p/BOkvKNvhKsL/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet), [Arabian](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bci06Y1gjkR/?taken-by=sagenicolehumphries), [Ballerina Doll](https://78.media.tumblr.com/215f76f134dd5a98357957faaef127d8/tumblr_inline_ofx7vjwE9L1r6s3m7_1280.jpg), [Waltz of the Snowflakes](http://ruelechat.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/Diana-Albrecht-Kathryn-Boren-and-Lauren-Herfindahl-%C2%A9LizaVollPhotography-9768.jpeg) (and some [quick](https://www.instagram.com/p/BcfaD3Rg-D7/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) [clips](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bcp444TAGRu/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) of them in action), [Waltz of the Flowers](https://www.instagram.com/p/BbwrFWIjhgu/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) (and some [quick](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bc8BF-uAav3/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) [clips](https://www.instagram.com/p/BckrW50A2X8/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) of them as well). [Here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BObBIfjBVGc/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) is a clip of the Arabian pas de deux too because the choreo is really cool. 
> 
> (Side note: can you tell I'm obsessed with the Boston Ballet costume design)
> 
> When Stiles and Lydia are dancing in their living room in this: the first lift in [this video](https://www.instagram.com/p/BcCu4C7DpyJ/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) is the lift Stiles does, and the last lift in that same video is the second lift they do where Lydia sits on Stiles's shoulder. [This](https://www.instagram.com/p/BcAOj1IjWd5/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet) is the last lift of the Grand Pas that Lydia does NOT think he can do (she's right, for the record.)
> 
> And in that scene, Lydia is wearing her [Wings of Wax shirt](https://www.instagram.com/p/BRtEECZDXxx/?hl=en&taken-by=bostonballet), which is a show she's in from the first Pas de Deux fic. That's totally inconsequential except for the fact that the symbol for Wings of Wax is LITERALLY Lydia's tree drawing (and yeah, I totally bought the shirt for that reason alone when I saw the show.)


End file.
